


in holy blueness shining footfalls ring forth

by seinmit



Series: Writing the Rainbow [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A Tiny Amount of Breathplay, Goat Herder Bucky Barnes, In Which They Realize Their Pining Is Mutual, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rimming, Sex Pollen, Spit As Lube, Very slight dubcon, Wakanda (Marvel), what we have here is a failure to communicate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-19 08:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19971385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/pseuds/seinmit
Summary: Face to face with blueness, the wild game's face retracts into gentleness. Gentleness transmutes discord by absorbing the wounding and searing wildness into appeased pain.-Martin Heidegger,On the Way to Language.In which Steve and Bucky get over the habits of a lifetime through the therapeutic benefits of sex pollen.





	in holy blueness shining footfalls ring forth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Title from Georg Trakl. 
> 
> Thanks to O. for reading this over for me last minute. 
> 
> There are some consent issues at play here, given the sex pollen. Go to the notes at the end for detailed warnings.

So many things were different, between now and then. Steve could barely eat a meal without the visceral sense of change, of a million small variations coalescing into an incomprehensible river. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror to shave his face in the morning without the shaving cream twitching his nose with unfamiliar tang. The straight razor was the same, but it was insufficient to hold back the current. When he lost New York, he stopped shaving and didn’t let himself think about if it was due to chemical smells. 

And Bucky—Bucky was different. His eyes seemed almost to be a different color, framed with unfamiliar lines. He rasped when he spoke. He moved differently. Before, his body had always been a couple beats ahead of his conscious thought. He moved quicksilver fast, with something that was close to giddiness. Steve had been so jealous, of how easy he was with his body. It sometimes got him into trouble, with people who weren’t Steve. He was forever touching people too quickly, throwing his arm around someone in a dance hall or flirting with someone else’s girl. 

Now, the sniper’s stillness he had developed in the war had spread like ink in clean water to every moment of his life. He held himself so carefully. He was so fucking _thoughtful_. 

Steve could write a book with what had changed. Sometimes he thought that Bucky already had, in his journals,—lost in the clutches of the World Security Council. 

But one thing was the same and, of course, it was the thing Steve most wanted to be different. Bucky held himself back, with Steve. The way he touched him, the way he looked at him, everything—it was controlled. He used to catch Bucky watching him, an unreadable look on his face. It would make him flush, something in him vibrating with the resonances of what Bucky was thinking. 

It was even worse, now. The quiet Bucky took with him all the time meant that instead of carefully considering when he’d touch Steve ( _reaching out to clasp his shoulder, elbow locked, a gesture like someone on stage; tucking him under his arm like Steve was his little brother, showing off for no-one watching_ ), he just didn’t touch him. All his smiles were unreadable. 

Steve found himself skulking around Bucky’s place in Wakanda, desperate to watch him with someone else. He wanted to know if it was just him. He needed to see Bucky wrestle with goats in a casual, physical way, just to know that it was still possible. 

“Shuri would tell you to take a picture because it would last longer,” Bucky said. He didn’t look up from the kid he was letting suckle from a bottle in his hand. 

“What?” 

“The worst part is, I think she’d be saying that ironically. I think that is already an old person thing to say.” Bucky looked up at him and smiled with just his eyes. 

“What?” Steve found himself repeating. He felt slow and stupid. The light made Bucky’s hair ever so faintly red. 

The smile spread to Bucky’s mouth. “Fat mood.” 

“Stop showing off,” Steve said. 

That actually made Bucky laugh and Steve felt his self-indulgent melancholy drain out of his spine, leaving him warm under the hot sun. 

Bucky shifted the goat effortlessly a little further into his lap and nodded toward the patch of ground next to him. Steve came over and sat down, crossing his legs. 

“How long do I get you for?” Bucky said. 

“Not long enough,” Steve said. 

Bucky bumped his shoulder against Steve’s and it took all Steve had to keep breathing. That was new. Bucky’s eyes flicked from Steve’s face to his suddenly tense shoulders and then right back to the kid in his arm. He shifted to settle her and put the customary distance between them.

“Well, I can put you to work while you are here,” he said. His voice was effortlessly light. “Akhona wants me to gather some herbs in the foothills. Two useless white city boys have got to be better than one.” 

“Does she know about your adventures in Indiana? I remember you picking poison ivy when your Ma sent you out for blackberries ” Steve said. 

Bucky’s eyes turned sharp for a moment, narrowing a little. The last few visits, if Steve had said something like that, Bucky would throw out something about how maybe he didn’t know those memories himself. Steve could almost see him deciding not to say it. Steve let out a breath.

“Hope springs eternal,” Bucky said, eventually. “And I have pictures. Ma didn’t have digital cameras.” 

Steve heard the evenness of his tone and felt even more like an idiot. He didn’t know why he kept pushing. That wasn’t different—it had always been a little like this. Bucky held himself ever so slightly back and Steve couldn’t ever stand it. He’d push until the distance broke. But nowadays, pushing just pushed Bucky away. 

“I could use a day with absolutely no HYDRA assholes involved,” Steve said. 

Bucky smirked at him immediately and Steve felt his temper rise. But Bucky only rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the bottle in his hand. He took it away from the kid, who bleated in annoyance that it was empty. 

He swatted her on the ass and she _baa’d_ , outraged, toddling to her feet and trotting away back to her mom. There was another kid, matching white and brown patches on their fur, already there. 

Bucky raised his hand. “Help me up,” he said. 

Steve scrambled to his feet, eager to comply. He let his hand linger in Bucky’s. Bucky squeezed it, just a little, before letting go. Steve’s heart stuttered.

All of Bucky’s attention appeared to be elsewhere as he twitched the folds of his scarf into proper order and brushed off his pants. 

“Let me go grab lunch,” Bucky said. “You stay here and try not to get eaten by goats.” 

As he watched Bucky disappear into his hut, Steve wondered what was different today. His painstaking catalogue didn’t have this in it. 

He fished his comm earpiece out of his pocket and popped it in his ear. He tapped his kimoyo beads, sending a ping to his team.

“Sam?” he said. “Sam, are you there?” 

There was a rustling noise and then, “Yeah, Rogers, what’s up?” 

“We aren’t going to come in to Birnin Zana today,” he said. “I’ll be off comms. If you need me, send a jet to pick me up. If it’s not that important, don’t need me.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Sam said, dry as anything. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” Steve said. 

“Sir,” Sam repeated, the enormous weight of an NCO’s contempt in the word. It sounded like nostalgia.

Steve laughed and he could almost hear Sam’s answering grin. 

“Try to let Barnes get the stick out of your ass,” Sam said. 

It took a lot not to say something about how he’d been wishing for Buck to take an interest in his ass since 1932.

“I’m just going to try and avoid getting beaten up by goats,” Steve said. 

“A nickel says one of these goats will have you down before noon,” Bucky said, materializing next to him. 

“Gotta go,” Steve said. 

Sam made kissy noises into empty air as Steve stuffed the earpiece back into his pocket. 

Bucky had a long staff in his hand and a basket hooked over the crook of his elbow. He was wearing a pack, with a blanket rolled up and latched underneath it. A jug of water dangled off of it. 

“You gotta let me carry something, Buck,” Steve said. 

He rolled his eyes, but shoved his staff and basket into Steve’s hands in order to allow himself to take off the pack and hand that over too. 

“I didn’t say everything—“ 

“Oh, shut up,” Bucky said, taking back the staff. “I’m going to have to be dealing with goats, that’s an existential burden.” 

Steve grinned at him, happy beyond words that Bucky was joking. Bucky met his eyes for just a moment before looking away. 

“Let’s go,” Bucky said, in a tone where Steve wasn’t sure if it was addressed to him or the goats. He clucked and hustled them into a semi-orderly herd and then marched off. He didn’t look behind him to see if Steve was following. Too focused on the goats, maybe. 

Steve let himself watch. Bucky had fluid, competent movements, even in this strange and unfamiliar task. 

After a moment of staring like an idiot, he got his ass in gear and caught up. Bucky wasn’t setting the type of pace that Steve knew he could--it was too easy for that. Steve had a chance to let his attention wander across the landscape, struck over and over by how beautiful this place was. They walked in peaceable quiet for some time and Steve was so focused on where he was that he wasn’t even obsessing about Bucky. 

They were gaining elevation pretty steadily, though their path was twisty and indirect. Steve’s heart rate never accelerated and the sweat on his skin would have been there had they still been sitting in the dusty yard of Bucky’s hut. The sun was hot, but the breeze brought marvellous living smells. He felt that every time he crushed some small plant, it burst in his nose and reminded him, you’re so far from home. The dirt smelled unfamiliar, the air, the sun. This is nothing like you’ve ever known. It wasn’t thickly wooded -- there were sparse, twisty trees and Steve could see far around them, inescapably aware of being alone in this strange patch of earth. The goats treated the walk as a travelling buffet -- taking bites of things as they walked, occasionally stopping to munch with more purpose. Bucky would scold and huff--accent getting thicker, reminding Steve of nothing more than Bucky’s ma trying to corral her four children. The Xhosa words sprinkled through were new, though. 

Reaching a small creek, Bucky stopped and shoved his chin to the other side. “You go first,” he said. “This is going to be a process.” 

Steve nodded, picking his way across the slick rocks. It wasn’t a fast-moving stream--it burbled cheerfully accompanied by the chirps of local frogs. Once he was on the other side, he perched himself on a moss-covered rock, eager to watch the view. 

“This ain’t the pictures, Rogers,” Bucky said. 

“I’m thinking it’s gonna be a show,” Steve said. His voice was probably too interested--he could hear the thickness in it himself. Bucky rolled his eyes at him, but his cheeks warmed. 

“These little assholes could be on vaudeville,” he said. 

“You could take your act on the road,” Steve agreed. 

Bucky gently thwapped a big billy on his thigh, guiding him toward the stream. He bleated his displeasure, digging in his heels and trying to whirl around to face Buck. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Bucky muttered, kicking a stone in the goat’s general direction. The goat skittered away from it, but at least he was going in the direction of the water. “This is nothing, you asshole. The little babies are going to be able to do it just fine.” 

The billy’s chin ruff fluttered as he opened his mouth wide to bleat and bleat. Steve was perversely reminded of himself as a small child, being persuaded into the bath by his mother. Eventually, he got picked up and dumped in. He wondered if Bucky would end up there. 

“Goats,” Steve said, unable to help himself. “Goats, Bucky. Who’d have saw this coming?”

“I used to read dimes set in the West,” Bucky said, his voice vague. “I’d have to imagine that much nature. I figured it wouldn’t smell like Prospect Park. And those were mostly cows, anyway.” 

Steve bit his lip. Bucky wasn’t given to reminiscing very much, after he reached Wakanda. He had thought he wanted it, but right now it just made his heart hurt. “I thought you mostly liked things set in space.” 

“I did,” Bucky said. The billy goat plunged his way into the stream, his hooves skittering a little. Bucky grinned triumphantly and started trying to persuade the does and kids. “But I liked anything that was far away from Brooklyn.” 

The thought made Steve’s heart hurt suddenly. 

“Did you not like what we had?” he said and then wished he could take it back. What a ridiculous thing to ask. 

Bucky’s cheeks went pink and he steadfastly kept his eyes on the goats. “I liked imagining us alone. Far away from anybody. Both Texas and Mars seemed strange and foreign enough to do.”

“We couldn’t get much farther than here,” Steve said. “This is definitely further away than Mars.” 

The goats filled the brief silence with bleats and splashes. Bucky nudged a doe with his hip, encouraging her to stop straggling. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Still us, though. Maybe we bring it with us.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to protest, somehow, but he didn’t exactly know to what. He wanted to say that they were different--that they were different all the way down, different blood through their veins. That if a scientist looked at their flesh underneath a microscope, even the twisting strands of their DNA would reveal everything they’d been through. At the same time, he wanted to insist on the sameness. They were the same boys they used to be. A little older, bloodied, rougher. But everything that mattered was just as it was. 

He swallowed it all, though, and heard Sam in his mind telling him that they needed to learn how to listen to each other. 

“What do you mean?” he said. 

Bucky looked at him, lightning-quick, before glancing away again. “I’m just talking bullshit.” 

Steve wanted to press him, but he figured part of listening was to know a deflection when he heard one. 

He nodded, instead, and took the staff from Bucky’s hands to let him drink from the canteen he was carrying. Bucky did and Steve couldn’t help but watch his throat move. When Bucky handed it back, their eyes held a long moment. 

Steve was the first one to look away. When he did, Bucky actually smiled to himself a little--Steve caught it out of the corner of his eye. They started walking again. 

Somehow, the vegetation got lusher. The elevation was increasing, just a little, ever slowly, but maybe this cooled the world down enough that plants could grow green and thick. The world closed in around them, a little bit. He heard the calls of birds and the rustling of the goats, the chewing sounds of thick leaves between their teeth. Suddenly the smell of basil burst between them, almost peppery. 

“Thank you for coming to visit me so much,” Bucky said. His voice sounded like gravel. “I know I’m not easy. But I miss you, when you aren’t here.” 

Steve reached out to touch Bucky’s shoulder without even thinking. Bucky leaned in, for just a beat, before pulling away and angling his whole body away from Steve. 

“I miss you when I’m gone,” Steve said. “I missed you, the whole time you were gone.”

“I didn’t,” Bucky said. His voice was wry. 

Steve ignored it, pushing through. “Of course you aren’t easy. You never were. People say old friends, best friends--it should be easy. People thought you were easy, everyone thought you were charming and effortless. But you’re too important to be easy.” 

“You always liked a challenge,” Bucky said. 

“I like that you make things hard.”

Something twisted Bucky’s lips, just a little, but it passed too quick for Steve to place. 

“I don’t know what I’d do with easy,” Steve said. He felt like he couldn’t stop talking. “Sometimes I try and it never works. I could find easy, I know that. But something about that makes me itch. I’m never happier when I’m proving something, you know that.” 

“I’m tired,” Bucky said. 

“Letting yourself rest is hard,” Steve said. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Bucky said, suddenly sounding a little angry. 

“Yeah, you do. You always have.” 

Bucky cursed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm. He stopped dead on the trail, highlighted by beam of light through the vegetation. Steve ran his thumb over his knuckles, wanting to reach for him, reach for a pencil. 

In that moment, one of the does made a break for it, crashing through a bush and darting off. Of course her comrades followed her, scattering and bleating. 

Bucky cursed again, with even more feeling than just a moment before, and Steve thought of goat curry. Bucky darted off after them, clicking his tongue against his teeth and calling them all sorts of names. 

Steve followed them all, rubbing his own chest with a thick palm. He felt like something was happening, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. Maybe they weren’t far enough away from everything for anything to change. The goats made pretty good chaperones, so far. 

Bucky was crashing through the foliage, sending up thick green smells. Something hooted in alarm. It wasn’t an assassin's stealth, that was for sure, and it made Steve fond. 

Something fragrant filled the air. A new smell. It had the velvet richness of gardenias and jasmine, which Steve had never smelled without the alcohol tang of perfume, but underlaid with spice. Something Steve couldn’t place, not exactly, but reminded him of warm, sweet things. It was heady and with musk to it, something almost fetid. 

Bucky was in the middle of a thick patch of vibrant blue flowers, scolding his goat up and down. The flowers filled an entire clearing in the woods. Each one had many pointed petals surrounding a central clump of stamen with dusty pollen. There was a smear of it on Bucky’s cheek. Steve reached down and plucked a flower out of the group, holding it up to his nose to smell. 

It was intoxicating. It made the air taste like the first shot of whiskey used to feel slipping down his throat, spreading warmth through his body. The blue was a color he didn’t think could be found in nature--an alien, holy blue. He studied it in his hand, digging his nails into the plush stem and feeling something sticky on the pads of his fingers. 

“Do you recognize this flower?” Steve said. His voice sounded a little distant. 

“No,” Bucky said. He leaned down himself to touch a few petals. The goats were munching happily away. “They have weird plants in Wakanda.” 

Steve felt the heat, all of a sudden. Normally, extremes of temperature didn’t bother him much. But now sweat gathered in the creases of his skin. He could feel it slick behind his knees, trickling down the small of his back. His breath suddenly felt short, just a little. He took a deeper breath, trying to settle himself and he could almost feel the smell of the flowers suffuse him. 

“Weird plants,” Bucky echoed himself. His voice was a little reedy and he sat down suddenly, kicking up the scent even more as he crushed a bunch of the flowers underneath his body. Steve stepped toward him, suddenly filled with strange momentum. Bucky looked up at him. His eyes were wide and pupils dark. Against the rich lapis blue of the flowers, his eyes looked almost grey. 

He licked his lips, staring up. Steve loomed over him, his eyes locked on the soft pink movement of his tongue. Other than that, Bucky was entirely still. Steve wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. 

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Bucky.” 

“Steve, I think there’s something weird about these flowers,” Bucky said. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from Steve. He suddenly clenched his fist into the dirt, fingers digging into the dark loam. Steve noted the movement, but he still maintained his predator focus on Bucky’s face. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “There’s…” 

His voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He felt at the same time like he was an alien in his own body and like he had never been more in tune with what he wanted. His hands opened wide, spreading his fingers enough he felt the strain of the muscles, before clenching into fists. There were wisps of hair escaping Bucky’s bun-- a couple strands stuck to his skin. Steve wanted to taste the sweat that kept them there. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. 

“You know what I want,” Steve said and he spoke for a hundred years of wanting. 

“I always have,” Bucky said. “I’ve always wanted.” 

“Liar,” Steve said. 

“I’m just a coward,” Bucky said. 

“ _Liar_ ,” Steve said. His voice sounded dark, even to his own ears. 

“You don’t know as much about me as you think,” Bucky said. 

One of his legs lashed out and tripped Steve. He went down hard, no grace in it at all, landing on one knee and one arm, half on top of Bucky. Bucky leaned back and reached up at the same time, letting himself fall heavily onto his back and dragged Steve further on top of him. 

Steve held himself entirely still. Every muscle was tense. He could feel Bucky’s heat underneath him and the pull of his shirt against his own shoulders. 

“Bucky, I don’t wanna--” 

“Shut up,” he said, viciously. “Just shut the fuck up. You have so many theories about me. Now it’s time to shut up.” 

He couldn’t push himself up, so he pulled Steve down inexorably. And then he kissed him, immediately wet and deep. Before Steve even kissed back, he was biting down on Steve’s lower lip, enough to send a shocky moan out of Steve’s throat. 

Bucky tasted like clean water and blood, mouth wet. Steve couldn’t smell anything but the flowers. Those fucking flowers. 

Steve tried to pull away a little. His body felt frantic with the need to get closer, but he wasn’t in the habit of listening to his body. 

“Please, Steve,” Bucky said. There was a note of whine in his voice, a soft pleading. It was more devastating by far than the anger that had just been there. “Let me have this, please. I’m not as brave as you. I need it.” 

Steve thought he was a strong man, but Bucky begging was more than he could take. He groaned and shifted his weight so he was more properly on top of him, digging his elbow into the dirt to support him and kissed him with everything he had. He kissed him with all the years since 1932, hot and hard, relishing the small slick noises it made, the movement of Bucky’s breath. 

He bit the soft skin underneath Bucky’s chin, the little bit of fat that signalled peace. He tasted the salt of Bucky’s skin and moved down to try and isolate Bucky’s pulse with his tongue, pressing his mouth against the flutter of his heartbeat. 

“Remember when we got so drunk, New Years 37?” Bucky said. “You tasted like cheap beer until you tasted like sick and I still wanted to kiss you more. I wanted to keep kissing you forever, I wanted to touch you all over--god, Steve, I remember your spine. I used to study the curve of it.” 

Steve gnawed on him, scraping his teeth against Bucky’s skin like he was going to consume him. His hips hitched helplessly against Bucky’s body. He smelled gardenias, he felt the sun, he felt every small shudder of Bucky’s body. 

“I remembered that night first,” Bucky said. “It was the first thing I knew was my own, knew I didn’t reconstruct out of a book.” 

“I thought you didn’t fucking remember it at all,” Steve said, harsh. His organs felt too big for his skin, pushing out and choking him.

“I know, I know,” Bucky said. “I--I was supposed to be someone different. I was supposed to be someone else, not who I was. Not who I am.” 

His chest was heaving hard enough that Steve pressed him down with his own body. 

“Fuck that,” Steve said. “Fuck that, Bucky. You’re mine.” 

He needed more skin. The hand that wasn’t supporting him fumbled with Bucky’s shirt and shawl. He ripped it a little, in his eagerness, but Bucky wriggled out of it before it was impossible. 

“I’m not, I’m not,” Bucky muttered and Steve wasn’t even sure if he was talking to him. 

Steve spread his palm over Bucky’s thickly muscled waste, running it up to press against his pec, rubbing his nipple with his thumb before shifting further and scraping his nails against the gnarled mass of scaring where flesh met metal. 

He leaned down and followed his hand with his tongue. He’d wanted to taste this since he saw it. The keloid tissue felt strange and smooth, almost plasticine. He bit and Bucky’s body jerked. Steve wanted to ask if he was hurting, but he didn’t entirely care. 

The thick line of Bucky’s cock, pressed against Steve’s hip, said he was doing something right. But it wasn’t enough. Steve moved down Bucky’s body, pressing his mouth against every new patch of skin. 

He pushed his face into Bucky’s crotch, breathing harsh through his nose. He wanted to chase away the floral scent that was filling up his nose and curling in the back of his throat. He needed the salt-rich animal smell of Bucky, something real and familiar. The narcotic scent of the flowers smelled almost like rot and he needed Bucky’s sweat in his nose. 

Bucky lifted his hips as Steve yanked off his pants. Now he was totally naked in the dirt and flowers. Steve’s clothing must be rubbing against his skin. Steve licked the fold where Bucky’s leg met his crotch, pressing his cheek against Bucky’s cock and feeling his sticky pre-come on his skin. He sucked, desperate, and moved to mouth Bucky’s balls and then further back, pressing his tongue against the thin skin just behind them. Bucky jerked his hips and Steve pushed an arm underneath them, holding him up so he could reach his hole. 

Steve didn’t even know what he was doing, moving entirely on the instinct to taste and smell. Bucky’s musk wove through the rich indole of the flowers, revealing an animalic note in the fragrance that harmonized with their bodies and drew Steve deeper and deeper down. 

The noises Bucky was making, uninhibited and raw--Steve was chasing those, too, his tongue working to open him up, push him into slick softness, away from everything hard and contained. 

“Fuck me,” Bucky said. Steve heard it as if it was from miles away. “Steve, Steve. Fuck me.” 

He pressed his nose hard into Bucky’s taint, wanting to fill himself entirely with scent before he had to move even an inch away. 

Suddenly Bucky’s leg hooked around Steve’s shoulders and he flipped them in a gut-wrenching show of strength. Steve landed on his back hard, blinking up and Bucky slithered down until he was straddling Steve’s hips. 

He shifted, reaching behind him, and before Steve entirely knew what was going on, he impaled himself on Steve’s dick. Steve’s hips jerked up, helplessly, before he grabbed Bucky’s hips and held him roughly still. 

“Buck--” 

“I want it,” Bucky said. He sounded so certain. “Please.” 

Steve couldn’t say no. He groaned and let his head fall back, eyes locked on the pale expanse of Bucky, the light shimmering off the metal cap of his shoulder as much as it did his skin. Bucky’s hips rolled and his eyes were closed and he seemed entire, complete in himself. 

“I see you,” Steve said, hoarse, mindless. “I always see you.” 

Bucky moaned, back hunching as he shuddered. Steve took the opportunity to thrust his hips up, grasping Bucky and fucking up hard into him, quick jerky thrusts. Bucky slumped even further, needing to use his hand to support himself against Steve’s chest. 

His palm met fabric and Bucky seemed dissatisfied, moving up until it curled around the skin of Steve’s neck, hot flesh against flesh. Steve pushed himself up against it, until he felt his breath hindered. 

Bucky jerked, uncoordinated, and came between them. Steve reached down and gathered up a palmful of his come, pressing it to his face and smelling the sea-bitter core of him, drowning out anything else, and his own pleasure rushed through him. He spilled into Bucky, biting his own lip hard enough that copper joined the body smells and followed him over. 

All the urgency drained out of him, leaving warmth and Bucky Bucky Bucky behind and he licked up the come in his hand. Bucky slumped down and pressed his forehead into Steve’s neck. They were totally silent. 

The sounds of the forest around them slowly rose up to meet them. He could hear birds. He could hear goats, for fuck sake. He focused his attention on Bucky’s slowing heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. 

Steve shifted his hand around to press it over Bucky’s lips. 

“Let me hold you,” he said. 

Bucky relaxed just a little bit more, his body limp. Steve’s cock was still inside him and he never wanted to leave. 

In the wake of what they had done, the flowers now smelled almost foul, like they’d gone off. Steve focused on their matched breathing and didn’t let himself think of it. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you, too,” Bucky said, muffled underneath Steve’s palm. “Sometimes I think that’s the only real thing about me.” 

“Shut up,” Steve said, helplessly fond. “People call _me_ dramatic.” 

Bucky bit him and Steve laughed. 

Suddenly Bucky jumped like he’d been goosed. Steve’s eyes snapped open, heartbeat kicking up-- and there was a fucking goat standing above them, poking his head into Bucky’s back. 

And then Steve laughed like he never was going to stop while Bucky wriggled around to shoo her away. His cock slipped out of him and Steve kept laughing, tears rising to his eyes, but it was just joy. 

“I’m going to eat you,” Bucky said. “Watch me.” 

Steve tugged him back down, underneath his arm. “She can come cuddle too, if she wants. Or just close your eyes and pretend she isn’t there.” 

Bucky finally snorted and settled, shifting a little against him until he was comfortable. 

There was a long silence. 

“Akhona told me that these flowers would be soothing,” he said, finally. “That they might help me relax and be honest with you. I did not see this coming.” 

Steve opened his eyes a crack, peering at Bucky’s familiar, beloved face. “Was this a plan?” 

“I _did not know it would be like this_ ,” Bucky repeated, fervent. But then, mulish: “I’m not sorry.” 

“Me neither,” Steve said, choosing not to point out that Bucky had just tried to apologize. He felt completely at peace in the world. Warm, Bucky was warm, his whole body was warm. No ice in this whole beautiful country. “Let’s take a nap.” 

“Hopefully the goats get eaten by a leopard,” Bucky said and pushed his smile against Steve’s skin. All of him was right there, in Steve’s arms, and they were together.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve and Bucky go for a walk with goats in order to pick some herbs for a friend of Bucky's and they stumble on blue flowers that have narcotic and aphrodesiac properties. They fuck and they're happy about it. One slight complication is that Bucky was told that the flowers would be relaxing and reduce his inhibitions and didn't mention that to Steve, but it hadn't been framed to him in the appropriate intensity. Maybe it interacted oddly with the serum!
> 
> If you're curious, the flowers smell like Frederic Malle's Carnal Flower perfume.
> 
> Also, hi new fandom! I really like it here. If you want to come hang out, I'm on twitter and tumblr, both under seinmit. <3


End file.
